Touching
by AngelicG
Summary: Tom Riddle doesn't like being touched, or touching others. However, there is one exception. Harry Potter
1. Prologue

_A really short one-shot I made, to get out of a writers_ block.

Tom doesn't like touching. He doesn't like touching anyone, nor anyone touching him. Touching filth disgusted him, and he barely contained his hatred for touch in his Hogwarts years, while using his "charming, intelligent school boy" persona.

But there was one exception.

When Tom first met Harry, the first thought that flew through his mind was, "By Merlin, his hair is a mess." And acted as casually as he could about it.

Subtle tips here and there, spells, potions, but nothing worked. Then, one day, out of frustration, Tom reached out and ran his hand through Harry's hair, successfully taming it. At first, it was surprise that it worked. Then, it was satisfaction. Finally, the horror set in. Immediately, Tom retracted his hand as if it was burnt, and quickly left with some half-hearted excuse. Harry, along with the rest of the students, were frozen in shock.

Far away, Tom stared at the hand that had unconsciously touched Harry's hair. He didn't feel disgusted, rather, he felt…Well, he didn't know how to word what he was feeling.

Tom barked out a laugh. Incredible, Harry not only had managed to break Tom's rule of no touching, but also caused him unable to form an explanation.

He gently used his other hand and picked out a strand of Harry's hair that had fallen out onto his hand. He recalled, despite how infuriatingly messy the poor excuse of hair was, it was rather quite soft. It was smooth and silky, and he realized he liked it when he touched Harry's hair.

Unconsciously, he brought the hand up to his nose and sniffed. It smelled of the magical shampoo he had given to Harry, he realized. He had thought the proud Gryffindor had disregarded his advice. To his surprise, Harry had actually heeded his words. The scents of calming lavender and warming sandalwood washed over him.

As suddenly as he had started, Tom stopped, realizing how weird he must have looked. Hurriedly, he moved onto his classes.

During the day, no one had said anything, Harry especially. Tom didn't know how to feel about that. On one hand, he relished in the loss of the snarky, heated comments Harry used to throw at him. And on one hand, he missed it greatly.

The staff had mixed reactions. Slughorn, like most of the teachers, seemed thrilled that Tom was becoming close to the new Gryffindor transfer, the DADA prodigy. Dumbledore seemed torn. On one hand, he agreed with Slughorn. If Tom could feel love, or even some connection to the Gryffindor then there was hope for redemption. On the other hand, he was also wary, because for all he knew this could be one of Tom's many schemes to win the Gryffindor over.

Since the incident, more and more of the same varying incidents slowly started happening. Tom started straightening out Harry's robes by hand instead of by spell, redoing his red-and-gold tie, cleaning his glasses, brushing dust off his robes, and patting down his hair all while huffing and sighing.

Harry also warmed up to Tom, no longer jerking away from Tom's touch, but now just letting out a half-hearted grumble. Being touch-starved, they started becoming closer to each other. Harry throwing an arm around Tom's shoulders, Tom placing a hand on Harry's back when they walk together. Harry resting his chin on Tom's head and warping his arms around Tom when Tom was sitting, Tom putting out an arm to hold Harry back when he became pissed at someone for a reason or another.

It became a common site to see the formerly touch-phobic Slytherin and Gryffindor prodigy holding hands or some other form of physical contact. It was a surprise to no one when they started dating.

Tom still keeps up his rule of no touching, but there is one exception, Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 1

"Merlin, I'm an idiot," Lord Harry Potter groaned, as he leaned back in his armchair. He took off his glasses, and rubbed his face tiredly. A very unimpressed Hermione sat across from him, giving him a cold stare.

"Oh, really? What made you come to _that_ astute conclusion, _Lord Hadrian James Potter_?"

Harry put his glasses on quickly, and swallowed nervously. Hermione had used his whole title, she wasn't just pissed, she was _pissed_.

"Was it, maybe, when you and Ron got absolutely smashed in muggle London, and performed magic in front of muggles, _breaking the Statue of Secrecy_, and getting arrested by Aurors?"

"Well, I-"

"Or was it, _Hadrian_, when you accidentally wrote down one too many zeros and ended up donating to the Ministry f_ive hundred thousand gallons_ instead of the _five hundred_ you were originally intending?"

"'Mione, I-" His explanations died on his tongue as Hermione got up, pacing furiously.

"Or was it when you decided to piss off your account manager, and now your account in Gringotts is _frozen_?! Was it, _Hadrian_?!" She hissed, leaning in closer to Harry's face as he tried to become one with the armchair. He attempted to stammer out an apology, but was interrupted as Hermione stabbing his chest with her finger, "You are a _Lord_, of an _Ancient and Most Noble House_ nonetheless! You need to act more responsible, this isn't Hogwarts anymore! You aren't a child! You are Lord Potter! Not some irresponsible, foolhardy, reckless, stupid Gryffindor _first year!_"

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I'll do better-"

"You always say that! You always say it was a mistake, that you'll do better, but you never do! Harry, you are ruining the reputation and legacy of the House of Potter! There is only so much donations and your name help you!" She exclaimed, backing away from Harry and gesturing wildly with her hands. She paused, sighed, and massaged her temples. "Harry, I want to become Minister one day. But I can't do that if I have to run around fixing your mistakes. I always thought that one day you'd grow up, that's you'd be more responsible but...I don't see that happening anytime soon. Maybe one day, but not now. So, I've decided to find you a spouse."

"...I'm sorry, you've decided to _what_?"

"A spouse. Lover, boyfriend, girlfriend, fiance-"

"I know what a spouse is, I'm asking why I need to get married! I just graduated from Hogwarts a couple of years ago!"

"Your parents married straight out of Hogwarts," she pointed out.

"They were already dating, and in love!"

"So? I can find you someone who is responsible, intelligent, and can take care of you so I can focus on my job."

"I don't need to be babysat," he insisted.

"You don't act like it. Either way, this will be good for you. You don't want to get a proper job, so a spouse is going to make sure you don't waste your life away. Besides, you need an Heir."

"Hermione-" Hermione glared at Harry.

"You better listen to me or I swear to whatever God reigns above, I will leave you in whatever pit you might find yourself in." Harry swallowed nervously.

"...Can I at least have options?"

"Of course, I'm not a monster."

_You don't act like it_, Harry thought, which he wisely kept to himself.

"So, you've dated Cho Chang before, right? She might be a good match, or maybe Parvati's sister, Padama! Hmm..Actually, any preference for gender?"

"As long as it's not _Malfoy_, I'm fine."

"...I wasn't going to suggest Abraxas, he's married." Hermione thought for a while, racking her brain, then snapped her fingers, "What about Tom Riddle?"

"Who?"

"Tom Riddle, a Slytherin who graduated the same year as us. He broke various records for his O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s. He also got a Service to the School-"

"No. Absolutely not."

"But why not? He's smart, responsible, and he isn't bad on the eyes." Harry rolled his eyes.

"If you like his so much, _you_ go marry him."

"Harry, be serious for once!"

"I am! He falsely accused Hagrid of being the Heir of Slytherin, which is complete bull!"

"Harry, I know, but-"

"Hermione, my answer is no. Please."

"...Fine. Now, what about Jackson Clearwater? He's a good wizard, was a Ravenclaw, he's currently working in the Ministry-"

Harry sighed. This would take a while.

Harry walked into a fancy Italian restaurant in Muggle London, tugging on the green tie of the bright orange-yellow three-piece suit that Hermione had forced him into. He didn't like it, as it was tight on his body, and made him look like a bloody pumpkin. But, remembering Hermione's threat, he kept it on. Harry approached the hostess, who blinked at his brightly colored suit. He cleared his throat, startling the hostess.

"Forgive me, Sir. Did you have a reservation?" She asked politely, obviously trying her utmost best to not look away from his suit, to avoid damaging her eyes.

"Uh, I had a reservation for...I think it was under Potter?"

"Of course, Potter and Goldstein. Follow me please, Mr. Potter."

As the hostess lead him to his table, Harry could feel the startled and judging stares of the other diners as he passed them. He was really regretting wearing the orange-yellow suit.

_It'll fit your brown skin tone, she said. It's perfectly fine, she said,_ Harry thought furiously, silently cursing Hermione's blatantly horrible fashion sense. He should have gotten a second opinion before going out in public like this.

They arrived to the table, where Anthony Goldstein was waiting, reading a menu. After politely excusing herself, Harry sat down in the opposing seat.

"Uh..Anthony?"

The blond looked up, surprised, "Harry! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there-What are you wearing?"

Harry sighed, "Hermione."

"Ah." Anthony patted Harry's hand sympathetically. Harry gave a weak smile, and turned his eyes down to look at his menu. Both men were quiet, as they looked through the menu. After a few awkward moments, a waitress came by.

"Hello, My name is Alice, and I'll be your waitress for this evening. Would you like to start off with any appetizers, or would you like to go straight to the main course?"

Anthony and Harry exchanged glances. Anthony tilted his head, and Harry shrugged, nodding. Anthony nodded, and after a quick look at the menu, he said, "We would like a...Broccoli and garlic-ricotta toasts, with hot honey?" He spied a quick look at Harry, who took a glance at the menu, and nodded. The waitress scribbled it down on her notepad, and looked back up.

"Do you want to order the main courses, or would you like a minute?"

"You can go first," Harry offered to Anthony.

"Alright, I'll have the pasta e fagioli with escarole," Anthony said effortlessly, impressing Harry.

"And I'll have the fettuccine alfredo," Harry said, purposely choosing one of the more easily pronounceable dishes. He couldn't afford to lose anymore face than he already has.

"Very well, anything of the wine menu?"

"Nero d'Avola, please. Harry, do you want a different wine?"

Harry, having no knowledge of wines, asked for the same. The waitress left to place in their orders, and to get their wine. There was an awkward silence, so Harry cleared his throat.

"So Hermione told me that you're working in the Ministry?"

"Yes, I'm in the Auror training academy! But the tuition is high, and I barely have enough connections and recommendations to jump forwards, and the program is really demanding. So I'm thinking of moving departments. Maybe I should aim to become a Magizoologist, and work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Care for Magical Creatures was one of my better classes at Hogwarts."

"Why? From what I remember, you're a bloody good duelist, and your best classes were Charm and Defense!"

"Bloody good isn't enough. I need sponsors, connections. I've spent too long in studying hard in Hogwarts, I didn't make any connections. And I don't have enough money to continue for the necessary four years of training."

"But you have friends."

"_Friends_, not _connections_. Most of my friends are halfbloods, muggleborns, and a couple purebloods from smaller houses. None of which can sponsor me."

"What if I sponsor you?"

Anthony jerked back with a start, "What?"

"I'm the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, I could sponsor you."

"Harry, I couldn't-"

"Just let me be your sugar daddy, okay?" Harry said jokingly, to ease the tension in Anthony's face. It worked, and Anthony chuckled.

"What do you want in return then?" Anthony asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Just be the best goddamn future Head Auror to ever graduate."

"I won't make any promises!"

They both had a small laugh, Harry felt the awkward atmosphere die away as they moved onto other topics. Harry talked about maybe taking up the offer he had with the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team, which Anthony was flabbergasted about.

"Why don't you join, then? You were an incredible Seeker in Hogwarts, the youngest in a century!"

Harry rubbed his neck, "I...I don't know why I didn't accept it right away, honestly. Their offer still stands, I guess...I guess I'm just waiting for the right time."

"If I'm going to be the future Head Auror, I want you to be the future MVP of the Montrose Magpies!"

Harry grinned, "Aim a little lower!"

Anthony grinned back, "Absolutely not!"

"Sirs, your appetizer and wine?"

Harry and Anthony jumped back, not having realized that they were leaning so closely to each other. Harry felt his ears warm considerably, and Anthony looked a little flustered himself. The waitress placed their broccoli toast thing (Harry couldn't recall it's name) and poured some wine for each man. After their glasses were about half full, the waitress left with a small nod of her head.

Harry took a piece and put it on his plate. He wasn't sure how to eat it. Should he use his utensils, his hands? He didn't want to make a fool of himself. Anthony noticed his blight, and subtly showed Harry how he ate it. Harry copied his actions, drizzling honey on the broccoli toast and eating it with his hands. Harry found himself pleasantly delighted by the taste. The subtle flavors of the garlic in the ricotta, the texture and grilled flavor of the broccoli, the toasted bread, and with the sweet-and-spicy taste of the hot honey, just brought heaven to Harry's mouth.

"Good, isn't it?"

Harry could only nod, his mouth full of heavenly ambrosia. Anthony smiled, taking a delicate sip of his wine after sniffing it. Harry tasted the wine, and found the taste of the wine to be horrific. Harry coughed, and practically chugged his water to wash the taste out.

"Not one for semi-dry wines, are you? Do you want something different?"

"Yes please," Harry croaked out, the bitter aftertaste still in his mouth. Anthony waved their waitress over, "You seem to like sweet wines so...A glass of Risata Brachetto d'Acqui, please."

The waitress left, and returned with a new glass and a new bottle of wine. She poured it in a cup for Harry, then left. Harry stared at the ruby colored wine, hesitant from the last sip of wine he took.

"Smell it first," Anthony suggested, which Harry did. He found the scent to be fruity, with a hint of a floral scent, which he liked. He sipped it, and found himself enjoying the lightly sweet and sparkling wine.

"This is nice," he admitted, taking another small sip. Anthony grinned, "I wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing!"

"Spent your seven years in Hogwarts, from childhood to adulthood, for alcohol?"

"You bet your perky ass I did!"

They laughed, although Harry's laugh did crack a bit. His ass is perky?

They finished their appetizer, and sipped their wine as they talked about meaningless topics. Eventually, their main course came. They ate, and talked.

"-Ron took another shot of firewhiskey, and his face matched his hair! He looked like a walking tomato! And he has no alcohol tolerance! Ginny wiped the floor with him!" Harry said, accounting the amusing tale of when the Twins had sneaked firewhiskey into the Gryffindor Common Room after winning the Quidditch House Cup, and when the Weasleys all had a drinking game. Surprisingly, out of all of them, Ginny had the highest alcohol tolerance.

Anthony laughed so hard, he was barely breathing, "Man, I wish I was in Gryffindor just to see Professor McGonagall's face when she found out."

"She came in right when Ron collapsed, and when he were all cheering for Ginny."

"Oh Merlin, really?"

"Yes! Everyone instantly froze! Professor McGonagall was _pissed_. She took nearly all the points off from us, and sent us off to bed. In the morning, she made everyone who drank clean up the whole Common Room, without the help of magic, or a hangover potion!"

"Everyone knew that you guys got drunk at the after-party, but getting a first hand account is hilarious."

"McGonagall threatened to put Gryffindor into the negative points if we ever pulled something like that again."

"Thanks for helping Ravenclaw win the House Cup that year, by the way."

Harry adjusted his tie, "All in a day's work!" He said, in mock pride.

They continued talking, even after their glasses were empty, and their food was finished. For dessert, they shared a slice of tiramisu, and a glass of Muscat de Rivesaltes. Harry found himself liking Anthony a lot, enjoying his humor and stories.

After Harry paid (Anthony embarrassingly admitting that he was broke), they went for a stroll around a nearby park. It was dark, and the moonlight gave the empty park a quiet and calming atmosphere.

"So...How did you think of the date?" Harry asked slowly.

"It was nice," Anthony said, "But, if I'm completely honest, I'd rather stick to being just friends with you."

Harry stumbled, causing Anthony to get flustered, "Close friend! A really close friend!"

Harry waved him off, "It's fine, close friend it is! Just worried how Hermione would react."

Anthony laughed, more out of relief than anything, "Yeah, good luck with that, mate."

"Do you want me to take you home?" Harry offered.

"Nah, I can Apparate. Thank you, though."

"We should meet up again, soon. I heard there was a good Japanese hibachi place opening down near Mayfair."

"We should! And I can introduce you to sake!"

"Sake?"

"Rice wine! It's good!"

"I'll take your word for it."

Anthony pulled out his wand, ready to Apparate, "See you, Harry." Harry waved goodbye, just as Anthony left with a pop. Now alone, Harry sighed. He wanted to get closer with Anthony, but he agreed that it didn't seem like a romantic relationship could grow between them. He still felt sympathetic to Anthony's plight, so he was still intending to sponsor him. Not wanting to return home with a rejection, facing Hermione's interrogation, Harry decided to go to a nearby bar. He was already buzzed due to the wines, couldn't help to get a little loose.

He walked into a busy bar, and leaned on the counter and ordered a Carling beer. Sipping it, he felt someone tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he came face to face with...

"Riddle?!"

"Hello, Harry. It's been a while."


End file.
